Osric worked quickly administering medicinal herbs to Veryadan, but he couldn't do much. He managed to seal up the wounds and relieve the pain some, but he was no magic healer. Veryadan would heal, but it would take time.
"That's all I can do for him." Osric said. He brought a waterskin to Veryadan's lips. "You need rest." Turning to Luinien, he said "Let's have a look at that arm. You too, Aidwain. Bring me your ankle."
Again Osric could do little more than bandage and relieve pain, but the Elves were grateful. Producing another pouch from behind his belt that was full of the same red leaves he had given Aidwain, he proferred it to Silruth. "These are very poisonous. You may wish to rub them on your arrow tips."
It seemed to Osric that Silruth also was reluctant to take the poison leaves. It was understandable that Elves, or anyone for that matter, would not want to use poisoned arrows. They were a nasty weapon. But under these circumstances, facing trolls and who-knows-how-many-orcs with most members of their party injured in some way, it might be their only chance. A terrible thought, that.
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